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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27348184">Forbidden Fruit</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/yespolkadot_kitty/pseuds/yespolkadot_kitty'>yespolkadot_kitty</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Burn Notice: The Fall of Sam Axe (2011)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Filth, Oral Sex, Restraints, Sex Pollen, Smut, Vaginal Sex, gagging</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 11:27:39</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,563</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27348184</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/yespolkadot_kitty/pseuds/yespolkadot_kitty</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>You are Comandante Rafael (yes I named him) Veracruz's superior and on a training exercise in the Colombian Jungle, you two get lost. Near some tempting fruit.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Comandante Veracruz / You, comandante veracruz x reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>19</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Forbidden Fruit</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“You can go ahead and say it, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Comandante.</span>
  </em>
  <span> We’re lost.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Comandante Rafael Veracruz lifted his machete and hacked through an arch of vegetation, severing the heavy, veined leaves. “We are </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> lost.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You snorted, hefted your own machete. A bead of sweat rolled down your neck and into the starched collar of your uniform. “There is no shame in admitting you’re wrong, you know. This is a training exercise.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“One for which I will pay heavily, should I fail,” he muttered. When you skewered the back of his neck with your patented death glare - which had made more than one Private piss his pants - he added, louder, “Of course, Colonel, but I am not wrong. I know this jungle well.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You narrowed your eyes at his tall back, ramrod straight as he stared ahead at goodness knew what.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You had been out here for </span>
  <em>
    <span>hours.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>A bad feeling had settled in your gut when you’d been sent down here to “review” Comandante Veracruz’s skills and competence. He skirted the rules often, you’d read. Occasionally thought they didn’t apply to him or his unit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Okay, yes, he got the job done, but sometimes he wore a smirk with it that made you want to… smack his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Or sit on it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was, in short, a smart-ass maverick, and the Army famously did </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> like those.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So, you’d set him several tests over this last week.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Irritatingly, he’d passed all the physical ones - </span>
  <em>
    <span>just.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>You’d had him wade his unit through the swamp ten miles from basecamp. You’d had him stage a “rescue” of a doll from a hostage situation. The doll had escaped unscathed. Each time he passed, he would set his left hand on his hip, fingers spread, tilt his head just so, and raise an eyebrow at you, as if to say, </span>
  <em>
    <span>satisfied, no?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>You were </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>satisfied.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You were not satisfied with the way his burnt-caramel hair curled up at the nape of his neck. The rasp of his voice when he said your title, the way it dropped just an octave. The soulful, bottomless mocha-brown of his eyes. The just-enough swagger in his walk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So last night, as you’d lain in your tent, you thought of the way Veracruz had let his thigh linger against yours in the mess tent, the way his chocolate-brown gaze had returned to mouth over and over. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>You’d angrily touched yourself to the memory of his deep baritone, his broad shoulders and cocky hand-on-hip stance, and formulated a plan.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Orienteering. You knew from his files it was his main weakness.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His face had momentarily fallen when you’d outlined the plan, but he’d taken it like the commander he was; stoically. Told you it would be a </span>
  <em>
    <span>pleasure</span>
  </em>
  <span> to take you through the jungle he knew as well as the back of his own hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Only - he’d led you a merry dance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your supplies of everything but water had run out hours ago. You’d packed only snacks, planning to be gone two hours at most.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sun beat down through the thick canopy of trees. The air was punishingly humid.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you </span>
  <em>
    <span>really </span>
  </em>
  <span>knew this jungle well, we’d be cracking open a beer in the mess tent right about now,” you snapped.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Veracruz turned on you, his features contorted into a snarl. “Have you </span>
  <em>
    <span>ever</span>
  </em>
  <span> considered that your sniping is not helpful for morale, hmm, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Colonel?</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You hated the way he used your title. Hated how it made you feel - muscles clenched with lust.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You ducked your head so he wouldn’t see your expression. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fat lot of good </span>
  <em>
    <span>morale</span>
  </em>
  <span> is when you can hardly navigate your way out of a paper bag,” you toss back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Veracruz cut down another swathe of big, broad leaves and they clumped to the ground. “You are like a viper, </span>
  <em>
    <span>no?</span>
  </em>
  <span> Poke and prod and then sink your fangs in for the kill.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sometimes, it’s kinder to have animals put down,” you smirk, making your tone sweet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Veracruz mutters something that sounds like he wants to kill you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You tipped the rest of your water canteen down your throat. God, your throat burned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Got any more water?” you ask.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His shoulders tensed. “No.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His voice sounded raspier. Perhaps he already drank all of his.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For the first time, unease twisted in your stomach.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Overhead, birds cried out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Colonel,” Veracruz called.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You heard him hack at another branch. A copse opened up, and within it, the sweet scent of Dragonfruit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your lips parted involuntarily as you beheld the pink fruit dangling from the tree leaves.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In your haste, you didn’t notice that these fruits were much smaller than traditional Dragonfruit. The smell sweeter, </span>
  <em>
    <span>deeper,</span>
  </em>
  <span> more enticing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You shoved Veracruz aside and grabbed one, the flesh giving gently under your hands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait, Colonel.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The fruit a breath from your lips, you paused. “What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He picked one. It irritated you that you noticed the length of his fingers curled around the fruit. Jesus, they’d feel good curled inside you, wouldn’t they?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lifting it to his nose, he inhaled. “Something smells off about this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Something smells off about your orientation skills,” you scoffed. “Don’t think you can distract me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stepped forward, hand out. “I’m not. I really don’t think you should eat that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh no? Well, you should have thought of that before you led us out into the middle of nowhere on what was </span>
  <em>
    <span>meant</span>
  </em>
  <span> to be a two hour exercise, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Comandante.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He glowered at you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And you took a big bite.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The flavour of the fruit coated your tongue - delicious. Nectar of the Gods. It was probably the thirst, but you hadn’t tasted anything so divine since you’d been posted out here. It was sweet, not too syrupy, the flesh silky-smooth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You eyed Veracruz, who was still regarding the fruit in his palm like a snake who might strike at any moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Scared, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Comandante?</span>
  </em>
  <span>” you taunted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His eyes narrowed and he took a large bite, holding your gaze.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You each ate the fruit in angry mouthfuls, not speaking, staring each other down. The pulp was juicy, and a trickle of it ran down Veracruz’s bottom lip and trailed down his neck, disappearing into his uniform.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You wanted to rip the buttons. See how far the juice went. Follow it with your tongue. Taste the sweetness of it with the saltiness of his sweat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your teeth scraped the core of the fruit and you tossed it aside, chasing the sweetness leftover on your palm, licking it off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Veracruz watched you with those dark eyes, his own fruit half-eaten and forgotten. The machete fell from his free hand and his lips parted, slightly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your gazes met again and held.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A wave of heat started to rise in your lower body. You tossed your machete aside, too. Around you, the copse seemed to be closing in, the vines around you curling in on themselves.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You looked around, but instead of panic in your veins, you only felt a delicious heat, syrupy, like the juice from the Dragonfruit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Colonel?” Veracruz asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You watched as he moved his hips awkwardly. Maybe he felt the heat, too. The waves of it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Had you noticed the muscular lines of his legs before? The shape of his thigh under that holster.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The way his military-issue fatigues fitted? The broadness of his chest?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you feel….. It?” you asked, and your own voice sounded breathy, distant, to your ears.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Veracruz took a deep breath. He glanced at the fruit in his hand, tossed it into the long grass. “I do not think this was safe to eat.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You snorted. “Says the man I’ve seen dip </span>
  <em>
    <span>cheese</span>
  </em>
  <span> into hot chocolate.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The heat pooled between your legs and you pressed your thighs together. If you could just get some privacy - you could take the edge off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Veracruz shrugged, shifting again, one hand stroking his thigh as if he wanted to touch himself... Elsewhere. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His fingers fisted. “It’s a Colombian delicacy, no? Delicious, if only you would lower yourself to try it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Somehow you weren’t sure if he was talking about the cheese anymore.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Had his voice always been so deep? Had such gravelly cadence?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You pressed a hand to your face and backed up into the tree. The bark cut into your uniform, briefly distracting you from the throbbing in your veins; the pounding heat between your legs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Veracruz seemed equally distracted, staring angrily ahead, fists clenched on his thighs, jaw working overtime as he ground his teeth. You dipped your gaze to his military-issue pants.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The clear outline of his erection made saliva pool in your mouth, made your inner muscles clench reflexively.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck,</span>
  </em>
  <span> you wanted him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And his aroused state confirmed your suspicions.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s the fruit,” you gasped out. “Has to be.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You expected him to quip something back at you, but instead your gaze found him stood stock still.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But when you looked closer, you saw that he </span>
  <em>
    <span>trembled.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>You definitely were not alone in your affectations.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The heat pumped through your veins. You pressed your back into the tree, hoping the pinpricks would take your mind off the arousal. It didn’t help. Your clothes </span>
  <em>
    <span>burned,</span>
  </em>
  <span> the fabric chafing against your skin. You fisted your hands on your hips, pulling at the fabric of your fatigues.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gotta get undressed,” you bit off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I beg you,” Veracruz groaned, not looking at you, “Do not.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why,” you panted. “Worried you’ll be repulsed by the viper you think I am, underneath the uniform? You think I have scales?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Would prefer that you did, </span>
  <em>
    <span>espina,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” he bit back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What did you call me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stared resolutely straight ahead. “You heard me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You opened your mouth to reply, but in your struggle not to tear your clothes, your footing slipped and the heel of your hand brushed your crotch. The ache was </span>
  <em>
    <span>unbearable.</span>
  </em>
  <span> You started to tear at your clothes, popping uniform buttons in your haste.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Colonel.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your head snapped up to see Veracruz standing three feet from you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He held his hands out. “You </span>
  <em>
    <span>must</span>
  </em>
  <span> restrain me.” He raked his hands through his pile of gorgeous mocha-brown hair, like he was burning up, itchy inside his own skin. “Then seek out your pleasure in private.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your gaze shot to his. He looked </span>
  <em>
    <span>wrecked,</span>
  </em>
  <span> face flushed, breath coming in pants. His hair was mussed from his hands. Like he’d just rolled out of bed. After a particularly sweaty sex session.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His jaw clenched, a muscle ticking there under his patchy beard.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Restrain me,” he repeated.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Images shot into your mind. Veracruz lying on the floor, wrists above his head as you explored every inch of that body, as you removed his uniform with your teeth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Por favor,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” he added, voice deep, raspy. You could smell him this close, smell his salt-slicked skin, the lingering fruit pulp, and the kiss of his aftershave, something like citrus and thyme.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You dragged yourself to stand upright. “Back to the tree, soldier.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He walked awkwardly, did as you bid.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You tossed off your pack, drew out the rope. Wound it around his middle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked at you askance, those soulful brown eyes suddenly seemingly big in his face. “My hands.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You. Um. Might need them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You looked pointedly at his crotch. Jesus, did he just </span>
  <em>
    <span>twitch</span>
  </em>
  <span> under your gaze? You felt yourself get wetter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Very well,” he gritted out. “I am to thank you then, for being so considerate.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Go fuck yourself,” you bit back at his condescending tone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It appears I shall have to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The thought of him fucking his fist made your veins </span>
  <em>
    <span>burn</span>
  </em>
  <span> with the fire of white-hot arousal. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Use a square knot,” he instructed as you wove back behind the tree, tying the rope.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You snorted. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Sure,</span>
  </em>
  <span> if I want you to be free in five minutes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> using?” he asked, scorn dripping from his accented voice. “Cow hitch?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut </span>
  <em>
    <span>up,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” you snapped, tying off the ends. You stomped off, past him, trying not to notice how </span>
  <em>
    <span>insanely good</span>
  </em>
  <span> he smelled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When you glanced back at him, a damp spot had started to bloom on his crotch. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stay,” he called.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You jerked around, mouth open. “What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d started to unbutton his pants, his breathing erratic, hair curling damply over his forehead, his eyes dark and hot and bottomless. “Stay. I want to see. Please,</span>
  <em>
    <span> Colonel.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You said-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I </span>
  <em>
    <span>know</span>
  </em>
  <span> what I said,” he snapped back. He looked desperate, his eyes almost black in the shade from the tree.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Comandante…” God, this was such a fucking breach of professionalism and right now, sheltered by the arching tree vines in this weirdly magic copse, you couldn’t seem to care. “We are </span>
  <em>
    <span>never</span>
  </em>
  <span> to speak of this once we leave here.” You continued unbuttoning your fatigues. Just the brush of your own hand over your nipples made you moan. “Are. We. Clear?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Si,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Colonel,” Veracruz panted, but your title sounded more like an endearment, the way his raspy voice clung to the syllables.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You undressed under his molten gaze, no longer caring about him seeing you naked. Your inhibitions had been tossed away with the discarded fruit. You shoved the jacket down your arms, pulled off your t-shirt, unsnapped your bra.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When you looked up, the sight before you gave you pause.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Veracruz stood where you’d tied him to the tree. He’d unsnapped his pants and drawn his dick out. It stood to attention, proudly curved against his stomach, the tip red, slick with his own arousal. You stared for a moment, struck dumb at the size of him.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Well, that explains why he’s always so pleased with himself.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>As you watched, he fisted himself, one hand on his shaft, the fingers of the other stroking the tip. His eyes closed momentarily and your mouth went dry at the thought of tasting him, laving your tongue over the velvety head of him, learning the flavour of his need for you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your blood surged and you gave up all pretence, sitting and leaning back against a sloped, mossy rock, and you stuffed your hand down your own pants.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You were </span>
  <em>
    <span>soaked.</span>
  </em>
  <span> You couldn’t tear your gaze from Veracruz, hastily fucking his fist as you stroked your clit just the way you liked. Pleasure zinged through your veins at your own ministrations.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck,</span>
  </em>
  <span> I could look at you forever,” Veracruz panted from the tree. He threw his head back, eyes squeezing closed for a moment, before he fixed them on you again. “Could watch you touch yourself forever,</span>
  <em>
    <span> hermosa.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>You ignore the endearment, thinking the fruit has caused him to hallucinate. You knew he didn’t see you as pretty. It was the fruit. But you didn’t care.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He started to groan, deep and guttural, and the sounds tipped you over the edge. Your muscles clenched around empty air as you came, but even as the orgasm </span>
  <em>
    <span>eased </span>
  </em>
  <span>the fire in your veins, it didn’t quench it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not even close.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You watched Veracruz sink his teeth into his lower lip as his hand paused. His fingers were wet, his whole hand down to the wrist looked shiny with his excretions, but you felt sure he hadn’t come.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His gaze met yours.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You,” you bit off. “I need </span>
  <em>
    <span>you.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p><span>“There will be no coming back from this, Colonel,”</span> <span>Veracruz breathed harshly as you made to stand up.</span></p><p>
  <span>Your clothes rubbed and, beyond caring, you stripped everything else off. Boots, underwear. You tugged off your hat and loosened your hair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Veracruz’s eyes went wide. His hand stilled on his cock as he admired your naked figure. His Adam's apple bobbed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This will change everything,” he added, his voice so low it was almost a whisper. He sounded…. Strangled. In pain.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t care. I’m going back to my own base in two days. We never need to see each other again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stilled. Something passed over his face; unreadable. Sadness?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You hadn’t thought a man like </span>
  <em>
    <span>Comandante Veracruz</span>
  </em>
  <span> capable of something as complex as sadness.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sit,” you ordered, pushing the feelings away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wiggled down the tree until his ass hit the grassy, vined ground, his cock standing to proud attention. Your inner muscles clenched greedily.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His gaze ate you up as you crossed the ground towards him, knelt on either side of his hips. He reached for you, hands steadying you, and you let him. The warmth of his wide, gun-calloused palms on your naked skin felt divine, eased the terrible ache.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You wrapped your hands around his dick, stroking with short, hard tugs; he was so wet. He arched his neck, eyes closed in bliss at your movements, and you thought that perhaps you could watch him like this for hours.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please,” he begged.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And because you wanted it as much as he did, you lowered yourself on to him, inch by slow inch. He opened his eyes and you fixed your gaze on his, watched as you both undid each other. The stretch should have burned. He was </span>
  <em>
    <span>so</span>
  </em>
  <span> big. But your arousal, and his, eased your path, and when he was fully seated, the burning ache zinging through your veins paused. You felt </span>
  <em>
    <span>free.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck,” Veracruz whispered, “Oh, </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck.</span>
  </em>
  <span> I dreamed of you. Like this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut </span>
  <em>
    <span>up,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> you ground out forcefully. You didn’t want to know these things. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>If he’d dreamed of you. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>You </span>
  <em>
    <span>didn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> want to know.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His voice was </span>
  <em>
    <span>too</span>
  </em>
  <span> perfect. The rasp of it dragged deliciously up your spine. “No talking.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Si, Colonel,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> he smirked, but then belied his cool by bucking up into your hot warmth, teeth sunk into his full lower lip. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>You took pity on him and rode him hard, until you were both panting, until his hands clenched on your hips, fingers digging in. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cannot… Last,” he groaned. You didn’t shut him up this time. The sound of his voice provided too much bliss. You clenched your fists on his shoulders as you rode him, and he snaked a hand down between your bodies to worry your swollen clit. Just the touch of his calloused skin sparked fire; your muscles fluttered and convulsed around him, and he bucked up into you, </span>
  <em>
    <span>hard, </span>
  </em>
  <span>once, twice, and the moan that ripped from his throat triggered your own orgasm. You came together, a mess of slick skin and guttural groans and heat and teeth and tongues.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You panted against Veracruz’s neck, breathing him in. How did he smell so </span>
  <em>
    <span>fucking</span>
  </em>
  <span> good?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And that ache, the burning lava in your veins that had been eased by both orgasms, started to build again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Veracruz pushed his hips into yours. “What </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> this fruit? More powerful by far than cocaine,” he panted. His lips were parted slightly, and you wanted to taste him. It occurred to you that kissing was the most intimate thing you could do at this point, but </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck it-</span>
  </em>
</p><p><span>He sighed when your mouth touched his, and then his hands slid into your hair, and it was almost romantic, and you hated that, hated </span><em><span>him</span></em><span>,</span> <span>so you bit his bottom lip, not hard enough to draw blood, but a warning.</span></p><p>
  <span>“Sweet </span>
  <em>
    <span>espina,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> he murmured.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut </span>
  <em>
    <span>up!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>But he continued to mutter some sort of endearments, lust-drunk, so you decided you had no choice but to take matters into your own hands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His pack lay discarded by the machetes. You eased off him - </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck,</span>
  </em>
  <span> he felt just as good pulling out as he did going in - admired him still hugely erect - and grabbed for his pack, pulling out the rope.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Colonel-” he started.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You tossed the rope at his feet, then scrabbled for your pack, pulled out the thin cotton scarf you kept for emergency tourniquets. Shoved it, balled up, in his mouth, then before he could react, you grabbed his hands and tied them in front of him. His eyes went wide for a split second, and then, angry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Good. He was easier to cope with when he was angry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Better than a square knot,” you said sweetly. “If you’re a good boy and you don’t move, I’ll get us both off again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stilled, but after a beat, nodded. His eyes blazed hazel fire.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He could escape the loose bind on his wrists. He </span>
  <em>
    <span>could</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but you knew he wouldn’t. He wanted whatever you were going to do to him too much, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span>, you wanted it, too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You kept his gaze on his as you popped the buttons on his uniform. His chest was smooth, tan, leanly muscled. You dragged your palms down his sweat-damp skin, then knelt to drop kisses on to his cock, still wet from your combined juices.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He twitched against your lips. A moan sounded around the gag.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did I say you could speak?” You asked softly, licking the swollen head of him, tasting his own earlier release and your own.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His eyes rolled back in his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You’d seen him shoot the enemy at point-blank range without blinking. You’d seen him wade through a swamp without a hitch in his stride. But the fact that </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> could wreck him, turn him into a groaning, trembling mess with your body, made you-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Made you have </span>
  <em>
    <span>fucking feelings</span>
  </em>
  <span> for him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was just the fruit. Just the fruit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Because tasting him short-circuited coherent thought, you closed your eyes and took him into your mouth, as far as he could go, your palms braced on his wide-spread thighs. From above you, he groaned deeply, trying to buck his hips a little, but you kept your palms firm, forcing him to stay still. A low growl sounded from behind his gag and it urged you on.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll use my hands </span>
  <em>
    <span>if</span>
  </em>
  <span> you stay still.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was silent and you took that as agreement. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His dick was soaked from your earlier activities and your saliva and your hands stroked his girth easily. You showed no mercy, gripping him tightly; the sounds obscene as you sucked and licked and jacked him off. His thighs trembled under your forearms and your own inner muscles fluttered as he groaned, long and low, and released on to your tongue.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He panted through the gag as you licked him clean, his hips bucking on a whine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When you sat up he pulled the gag out, tossed it aside.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your turn, </span>
  <em>
    <span>no?</span>
  </em>
  <span>” he asked, cheekily.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was the fruit making you like him. The fruit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But it must have made you mad, too, mad for his touch, because you grabbed one of the machetes and cut all his ropes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When you’d freedhim, he pounced for you, laying you out in the long, warm grass. It felt like the finest bed as he trailed his mouth down your body, and perhaps him being clothed and you naked was a power play, but you could no longer bring yourself to care.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His short, patchy beard tickled your breasts, stomach and inner thighs before he started to methodically eat you out.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Turns out he can apply himself,</span>
  </em>
  <span> you thought distantly as he curled his tongue over your clit, fucking his fingers into you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You came in a burst of light, your hands in his hair, your body convulsing. As you gazed up at the jungle canopy, the taste of Veracruz and the sweet fruit lingering in your mouth, you became aware that-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The ache had gone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You felt tired, but…. You felt like yourself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At the apex of your body, Veracruz, too, sat up, rubbing his hands through his hair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He opened his mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>No.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Do not even </span>
  <em>
    <span>think</span>
  </em>
  <span> about it. We agreed we would never speak of this again, Comandante.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His brown eyes communicated with you silently. Had they always been so large, so expressive? He managed to look simultaneously vulnerable and hot as well there between your legs, cock out, uniform half off, hair mussed and curling over his forehead.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He’s right. This has changed everything.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“We had better get back to camp. Get dressed.” Veracruz stood up, grabbed your uniform and tossed it at you.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh, no. He doesn’t get to call the shots just because he’s been inside me.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>You scrambled to your feet, lunged for him, and together you wrestled across the soft grass of the jungle floor, until you planted your palms on his chest and straddled him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You do not get to be in charge here, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Comandante.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Veracruz bucked his hips into you, his beautiful mouth contorted into a sneer. “I am good enough to fuck under some jungle drug, but not good enough for anything else, hmmm, </span>
  <em>
    <span>espina?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>Colonel </span>
  </em>
  <span>to you,” you snapped back, and then, because he looked so tempting and his face was so stupidly sexy, you kissed him, roughly, invading his mouth with your tongue the way you wanted him to invade your body again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wanted it, but sober, you’d never have allowed it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Veracruz murmured something as he slid a hand up into your hair, and you felt your resolve softening; you were leaving tomorrow, maybe just one more-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Colonel! Comandante!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You broke the kiss at the sound of voices.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You and Veracruz stared at each other in abject horror. You rolled off him, yanked on your clothes, ducking behind the Dragon Fruit tree as a small group of soldiers entered the copse.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, a successful exercise,” Veracruz was saying. “You are to be congratulated on passing the test the Colonel set and scouting us out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rolling your eyes, you left the safety of the tree after checking your uniform. “At ease, soldiers,” you greeted them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They shared their water with you and Veracruz.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The bastard had the gall to wink at you during the trek back to basecamp - which you reached in a mere half hour.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What the </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span> was in that fruit?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>*****</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hours later, you left the mess tent after dinner, mentally exhausted, your body still jacked up from your orgasms at Veracruz’s mouth. And hands. And cock. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>You started to write your report, trying in vain to stop your mind from wandering to his rasped endearments, his soulful eyes, the feel of every ridge and vein of his dick inside you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Colonel?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Belatedly you realised you hadn’t been imagining his voice. The sound came from outside your tent.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come in, Comandante.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The tent unzipped and he strode in, looking as irritatingly cocky as ever. You realised idly that you’d never gotten to sit on his face - another method of shutting him up that would have been rather effective.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“For you. You left before dessert.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dragon Fruit ice cream, served inside the shell.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cook’s special,” he added.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You snorted. “This isn’t-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course not!” He set it on your desk. When he leaned in, arms braced on your desk, caging you in where you sat, his voice dropped half an octave. “Next time I fuck you, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Colonel,</span>
  </em>
  <span> you will not be under the influence.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Unbidden, a groan escaped your lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He brushed his mouth over yours and he tasted of the Dragon Fruit, like kiwi, sharp and sweet. “Call me Raffi,” he murmured. “When I take you. When I fuck you over this desk so hard you can no longer think about reports.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You held still, wanting him, but still sort-of hating him. He was still too smug with his bottomless eyes and his perfect dick.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Comandante….”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He arched a brow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m better at giving orders than taking them.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And you tied him to the bed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And you found out that yeah, sitting on his face was a very effective way of shutting him up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You gave him a glowing report.</span>
</p><p>
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